


'Til Certain Death do us Part

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Root and Shaw are married. On a particular day Root looks extremely hot and she gets cat called by every guy on the street. Shaw gets really pissed, jealous and possessive but after a while she gets a knowing and smug attitude like 'yeah suckers this is MY hot wife, mine.' BTW love your writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til Certain Death do us Part

"No! No way in Hell!" Shaw stammers, flustered and confused at the sudden outburst from Root.

"You have to!" Root says back urgently; eyes pleading. Shaw wants to give in, but her outer barriers hold strong.

"I don’t, and I won’t." She shoots back firmly, arms crossed.

"Well, why not?" Root looks down into Shaw’s eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Why? Be- because…"  _Why not?_  Shaw thinks to herself, trying to find one good reason. The only things that come to her are why she should. At last, she shakes her head. “I don’t have to explain myself to you!” She bellows.

"What is all this commotion?" Harold asks, walking down the stairs and into their hideout. The abandoned subway terminal- tucked away in a secret cove of its own world- feels like home to them all.

"Sameen won’t marry me!" Root shouts accusingly. Shaw groans.

* * *

 

"Why should I?!" She screams.

"Why  _shouldn’t_  you?!” Root retorts.

"Wait, wait, wait. Miss. Shaw, please? Just say yes."

Sameen is taken aback by Harold’s instant jump to Root’s cause and falters. “I would but- I mean,  _no_  I would never-  _never_ \- why would I get married?!”

"It’s what the case entitles," Harold states as if it is the most obvious claim in the world.

"The case…" Shaw breathes, then uncoils her taut muscles. "This is for a case.."

Harold’s gaze turns to Root, the annoyed poise in his posture is evident. “You didn’t tell her what this was about?” He asks tastelessly, eyes smoldering. Root merely shrugs, turning her attention to Sameen.

"I just wanted to make it as real as possible." She says sweetly, earning a less than amused eye roll from Sameen. "And I almost got a yes from you," she adds.

Shaw snorts. “I’ll marry you when I’m dead.” She spits heatedly, turning to grab her jacket from the subway bench.

"Well, welcome to the after life, Miss. Shaw," Harold quips with a small smile. "Because the two of you are due at the Centre Royal in half an hour. Here," he sticks out his hand, revealing two golden bands. "I do hope they fit."

"They don’t  _need_  to fit,” Shaw seethes, reluctantly taking one. “We aren’t keeping them.” Shaw goes to slip it on her finger, but Root stops her.

"Ah-ah," Root wags a finger playfully in front of Shaw. Then, she takes her hand. "I’ll do yours if you do mine." She says lowly, winking.

Shaw purses her lips, her eyes coming to slits. “ _Cute._ ”

____________\ If Your Number’s Up /____________

After much huffing and puffing from Shaw, Root got her way. Beaming, she walks down the street, bundled in a beanie, scarf, and a long black coat. Shaw wears a trench coat, beanie, and a sour face.

"Why do we even need the rings?" She fumes silently to Root. "We’re wearing gloves."

"We need them at the Centre Royal," Root matches her secretive tone, then shoots a sparkling smile her way. "Mine’s a little loose, but I could get used to it," she muses as they walk down the chilly New York Street.

"Don’t."

From across the road, there is an ear piercing whistle. “Lookin’ good, sweet heart!” A man’s voice calls out. “Why don’t you walk this way, Wavy Hair?” Shaw throws a dangerous glare the man’s way.

"Buzz off, pal." She fires back, and he averts his eyes. From her side, Root lets out an amused smile.

"What?" Shaw asks defensively, breath misting the air. Root simply nods her head.

Coming to a corner, they stop to wait for the oncoming traffic. Flashes of yellow taxis and polished car bumpers whiz by with the sounds of honking horns. From a little ways down the road, two men walk towards them.

"Well how  _you_  doin’?” The first man asks, eyeing Root up with green, thick-veined, eyes. His hair is long and blonde, tucked back under a Jets cap. His smile is that of a starving man looking at a hot bowl of soup.

"I’m just fine," Root replies modestly, looking forward.

"You ain’t ‘just fine’," the second man steps forward, slicking back his dark brown hair. "You’re  _damn_  fine.”

"Yeah, real easy on the eyes," the first man agrees.

"Look, we don’t have time for this Beevus and Butthead crap," Shaw cuts in on their gawking. "We have somewhere to go."

The man with brown hair chuckles, but his eyes are harsh. Then, looking to Root, they soften. “Hey baby, how much sweet talking would it take for you to ditch this buzz kill?” He asks, coming even closer with innocent eyes. The blonde man slouches back, sticking his thumb behind him.

"We were just headed to the bar down the next street. Drinks are on us, Darlin’."

Root turns to him, opening her mouth to reply, when Shaw snaps. “Don’t  _'Darlin'_  her. We have. somewhere. to. be. Now back away before I through you into oncoming traffic.” Her voice is deadly, eyes burning with a loathing fire.

"Oh yeah?" The blonde man says, bending his knees exaggeratingly to see eye-to-eye with Sameen. "And who are you to this lovely lady?"

Shaw smirks, and a smugness creeps into her tone. “Her wife.”

Instantly, the man retracts to an upright position, eyes wide and sober. Looking to his friend, he sees the same bewildered look in them.

"Oh. Uh…" The two start to slink off, receding into the shadow cast by a skyscraper, "maybe, uh, maybe next time." They mutter, now hustling off. The light changes, and the two walk across. However, the cat calls continue to roll in like clouds in a storm.

"What is it, national chauvinistic pig day?" Shaw rants, stuffing her hands deep into her pockets, eyes deadly. "How much further until we’re there."

"Only a few more blocks," Harold assures her through her ear piece.

They approach a large group of men working on a nearby sewer drain, jack hammers roaring and men milling about. Suddenly, one calls out to the others, and every machine powers off.

"Let’s cross the street," Shaw says under her breath, but one look at the race track of a road shoots the idea dead.

"Don’t worry, Sameen," Root says, her eyes practically spewing hearts. "You know I only have room in my heart for  _you_.” Where Shaw would usually allow her face to show annoyance, there is none. Instead, she looks down slightly, cheeks pushing through with pink. They come up to the construction workers, who instantly start their hooting and walloping.

"Well hey-loww there."

"Why don’t you walk them fine legs this way, honey."

"Which one of you fellas ordered the strip tease?"

With each remark, Shaw bristles, her fists becoming more and more clenched until her nails pierce through skin, allowing a warm trickle of blood to ooze within her glove.

Root, seemingly unfazed my the onslaught of comments, links her arm in Shaw’s, pulling herself close.

"Sorry, boys," Root calls out to them, a smile playing on her wind-bitten face. "She’s taken."

"Oh, we weren’t talking about her, kitty cat, we were talkin’ about you."

"Ooh. Bummer," Root gives them an S.O.L. look. Shaw realizes they’ve stopped in front of the hoard. "I’m also taken. Oops."

"Awe, come on," the men holler; some laugh with some kind of giddy joy. "I’m sure he can share."

"No, you see, she’s kinda possessive." Root informs them, face tied up in a sorry-about-that way. The men quiet down a moment, then roar with thick laughter.

"Oh,  _sheee._ " what seems to be the ring leader gushes. "Is that your  _she_?” He says sarcastically, pointing a sausage finger Sameen’s way.

"Yeah," Root replies, a warm tone striking her voice as she peers over at her. Shaw sighs, anger boiling deep within her blood at their hostile words. "Sweetie?"

"What," Shaw says dejectedly, looking up at Root.

"You ready to leave these- um- men, to their work?" There is a cough at her tone, and a hushed scoff somewhere in the back. Other than that, the men are dead silent.

"Yahh," Shaw replies with a hint of exasperation edging along her voice; her eyes flicker in a momentary plead.

"Okay," Root responds. Then, with quick precision, she leans in and kisses Shaw passionately. Once she pulls away, she says, "then let’s go."

The two start up their arm-in-arm gate once more, Sameen numbly teetering forward. Her senses are on fire; her eyes swear to have seen a ghost.

"What, uh, what was that," Shaw says coolly, licking her lips.

"Just trying to get them off our backs," Root replies simply, mind preoccupied as her eyes search. "Ah! Here we are."

_________________\ We’ll Find You /_________________

They walk in on a scene riddled with war and stricken with bedlam. All around the foyer, papers are scattered haphazardly, and chunks of the wall dust the ground in wall paper and insulation. There is a groan, which comes from a man badly wounded by a gunshot behind the counter. The more they look, the more bodies they see.

"Three by my count," Root states, eyes calculating the damage. "Only one alive." There is a scream, and a gun is shot spasmodically on the floor above. The two look at each other, all emotions gone from their eyes as they grab their guns.

"Looks like we’re a little late to the meeting," Root states as they head up the stairs, side-to-side as to not be taken by surprise.

"But just in time to kick some righteous ass," Shaw concludes. They kick open the back stairway door, and head into the storm.

It is littered with people running and crawling to any safe place they can find. A little further back are three men in ski masks, all brandishing large machine guns.

"You take the left lane, I’ll take the right," Shaw breathes, and they split. They walk, crouched low to the ground, on either side of a long break in the second floor. A thin, glass plated hand rail is the only thing between them and the first floor.

Finally, they get to the bridge where the three men stand, and open fire. The first is hit hard with bullets, stumbling back over the railing. There is a scream, a smack, and a sickening crunch.

The other two stalk forward, keeping their hands stuck on the trigger as their automatics spew bullets. Glass shatters and more people scream. Shaw winces as a bullet grazes across her upper arm, taking a chunk with it. Angry now, she aims- fires. Three to the heart takes the man down. Gritting her teeth, Shaw presses her right hand to the blood-sticky wound. It sears with pain, but it’s not nearly the worst she’s had. Suddenly, she hears a familiar voice screech.

Looking across the median, Shaw sees everything in slow motion. The punches thrown back and forth. One after the other- person to person. Root gets in a hard hit to the jaw. The gunman lets loose two swift jabs to the abdomen. Root gets pressed against the glass. She swings, her hand in caught mid throw, and twisted hard. She cries out. The man twists it further, pushing her over the edge of the railing.

Her head. Her right arm. Her right leg. Her left leg. Her torso. It all slides down the wrong side of the glass- being held up by nothing more than a wrist twisted 90 degrees the wrong way. Shaw sees as the man starts to loosen his grip, her glove coming off in his hand.

"Root!" Her own voice feels slowed down. "Grab the railing!" Her throat is raw with the few words she screams. She raises her gun as the glove comes all the way off.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Five bullets. The man falls to the ground with a hard, dead thud. Then, everything collapses on itself, all slowed time is replaced by the ticking of a normal clock and Shaw’s hammering heart. She runs to the other side of the opening, seeing Root holding on with one arm to the railing, her twisted wrist by her side in an off position. Before she really knows what she’s doing, Sameen is already pulling Root up and back over the ledge. Together, they sit with their backs pressed against the cool glass, breathing heavily. Finally, Shaw’s brain catches back up.

"Are you okay?" She asks Root, turning her head to look at the dazzling brunette beside her. She looks back, meeting Shaw’s concerned eyes.

"I’m fine. A hairline fracture at most. How about you? Let me see your arm." Before Shaw can open her mouth, Root is sitting over top of her, working hand picking the ripped jacket out of the wound.

After a few more moments, Root leans out, knees still planted on either side of Shaw’s legs. “You’ll live.”

"I know." Sameen replies.

Root chuckles, her eyes timid and deep as she looks at Shaw. “You always do.”

Unable to stand the heat of the gaze any longer, Shaw diverts her chocolate eyes away, then spots the stolen glove. Stretching over, she reaches for it, then shakes it until a golden ring falls out into her empty hand.

"We’re gonna need to get this fitted." Shaw tells Root as she slips it back onto her finger. "It might not be such an easy find next time."

With that, she slides out from underneath Root and stands. On the ground, Root’s eyes are wide, mouth agape. “Wait, what- what do you mean  _fitted_? You said we weren’t keep-“

"Well, I lied." Shaw interjects, not looking back. On her face is a self satisfied smile.

"Does this mean yo-" Root scrambles to her feet, then rushes to catch up to Shaw as she starts to descend the stairs.

"Sameen, we’re not getting  _married_?” Her voice trails off in a question. Sameen just shrugs.

"You’re the one who proposed. By the way," she adds, giving the bewildered Root a sideways glance, "these bands aren’t  _'getting married'_  they’re  _'being married'_.”

Root let’s out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re- so, we’re married?” She asks, trying to get the official words out. Shaw only smiles wider, knowing she’s  ~~married~~   ~~engaged~~   ~~dating~~  with the prettiest and most wonderful woman she’s ever met. And suddenly, she can’t wait for the walk home.

 


End file.
